


Second Chances

by elle_you_oh



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Baby Fitzsimmons, Baby Skye, Brief appearances by Maria Hill and some Avengers, F/M, Family Fluff, Natasha Is a Matchmaker, Phil's their dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_you_oh/pseuds/elle_you_oh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were dangers to being a single man/woman/animal acquainted with Natasha Romanoff, and those dangers could be summed up into two words: Blind Dates. Both Melinda and Phil have had bad experiences with Natasha’s set ups, but neither expect that the night they were paired off would be the most disastrous of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

“Daddy, can I have ice cream when we get home?”

Phil turned to his eldest daughter Jemma, who was currently tugging on his hand, looking up at him with widened eyes and a hopeful smile.

When he nodded in affirmation, she beamed up at him and giggled, shouting a loud “Thank you daddy,” before letting go of his hand and rushing forward to join their resident manny, Trip.

They were walking home from the neighbourhood park after a Sunday morning picnic and Phil had purposely forgone any sweet snacks before and during the outing to avoid any sugar rushes in a public place.

“Wheeee, I’m a monkey.”

Leo, Phil’s eldest, and only son, is perched upon Trip’s shoulders, squealing and giggling in delight at being so high up in the air.

Trip’s been baby-sitting for them for over a year now; since Phil had put up the ad when they’d moved into the neighbourhood. He’s studying to be a nurse, and with Leo and Jemma’s tendencies to get injured whilst playing, having someone with medical knowledge around is more than a little helpful.

“Daddy, Daddy”

Skye’s writhing around in his arms now, laughing and babbling, throwing her chubby fists around, fascinated by the butterfly that was fluttering around her.

He just smiles and presses a kiss to her messy brown curls, holding her a little tighter to him.

His children were his everything, they always had been, always had his undivided attention, but even more so after Audrey had passed away. They were the centre of his universe, and the most important people in his life.

* * *

 

“Coulson, you need to get laid.”

Phil’s eyes widened as he clamped his hands over Skye’s ears, hoping the two-year old hadn’t heard the words just said. Fortunately, she seemed immersed with her electronic toy that changed colours every time she squished it.

“Little ears around Barton,” Steve laughed as he clapped Clint on the shoulder.

“Come on Phil, let me set you up on a date,” Natasha pleaded as she reached over a tickled Skye’s tummy drawing out loud peals of laughter from the little girl.

“You’ve set me up on four dates in the last three months,’ Phil responded as he eyed her pointedly but she just rolled her eyes right back at him.

“And yet, you’ve managed to ruin every, single one of them,” Maria interjected, throwing him an expression of great amusement.

“Even desperate Debby from Accounting didn’t shack up with you,” Tony jibed as he took another swig from his bottle.

Phil sighed in exasperation.

“I didn’t let you people into my house so you could make fun of my life choices.”

Steve was watching him with sympathy; he’d been victim to Natasha’s incessant meddling personality too and evidently understood how he felt. The rest of his co-workers just appeared amused.

“Phil, we’re just worried about you.”

Maria’s voice had taken a softer tone now, and Natasha nodded in agreement, before reaching out her hand and placing it onto his arm.

“Look, Phil. I have a friend who works up in Administration. You know her, Melinda May, the one who knocked Stark out after he tried to feel her up at the staff Christmas party last year?”

Tony threw his hands into the air dramatically.

“That was just one big misunderstanding.”

“No, you’re a handsy drunk. Let’s see, you tried to make out with Bruce, you did make out with several secretaries, grabbed Fury’s ass, and you stuck your hand down Steve’s pants,” Maria recounted, laughing fondly at the memory whilst Steve cringed.  

Natasha clapped her hands loudly.

“Can we please get back on track here people? We need to make sure Phil doesn’t screw up his next date.”

Phil heaved out another heavy sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Natasha just laughed as she helped Melinda zip up her dress.

“Phil’s a really nice guy Mel, please don’t scare him off like the last guy.”

Melinda rolled her eyes at her friend through the mirror as she reached over for her earrings.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Nat.”

“Come on Mel, just be careful with him alright. He hasn’t seriously been with anyone since his wife died, and he’s a good friend of mine.”

“Remind me again why I said yes?”

Natasha just smirked as she spritzed some more hairspray into Melinda’s updo.  

“Because I’m a superspy, I always get my way and you have a crush on him.”

Melinda smiled despite herself. When Natasha had told her she’d found her another date, she’d initially dreaded it, but once she had discovered that her friend had set her up with Phil Coulson, the sweet and charming sales manager she’d seen around the office several times, the annoyance she displayed was only feigned.

So here she was, in a dress so tight she could barely breathe, shoes that were already killing her feet and enough make-up to coat the planet earth.

As she took a deep breath and stared into her reflection, she felt something in the pit of her stomach and the back of her mind that hadn’t been there for a while.

She was nervous.

She actually wanted things to work out this time.

* * *

 

“Maybe I should just cancel.”

Leo and Jemma were in the other room reading together, but Skye was bawling her eyes out in Trip’s lap, her face bright red. She had been fussy the entire afternoon, and was now crying with no signs up stopping.

“Come on sir, it’ll be fine. I’ll make sure little miss here is well taken care of. And if anything happens, I’ve got your number on speed dial.”

Trips words did little to soothe his worries, and if to amplify his concern, Skye wailed louder than before, reaching out for Phil. He knelt down in front of her, brushing away her tears with both hands.

“Daddy’s just going out for a little while sweetie. I’ll be back very soon. Be good for Trip okay?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and ran his fingers through her curls before rising back up.

“Text me with updates, and call me if anything happens alright?”

Trip mock saluted him as he turned to grab his suit jacket from where it lay on the arm chair.

He slipped it on as he headed out into the hallway, ducking in to the lounge room to wish Leo and Jemma a good night, before checking his watch.

He was already ten minutes late.

* * *

 

By the time he had reached the restaurant, ten minutes had turned into forty, and he’d rushed inside, cursing himself for not calling Natasha so she could let Melinda know he’d be late.

The waiter at the front desk directed him to a table near the back, and as they walked over, he studied the woman already seated there.

He recognised her from work of course, but he’d never seen her dressed like this, in a sleeveless rich purple gown and hair pulled elegantly to one side. Even a fool could tell that she had made quite an effort for the evening, and now he was feeling increasingly bad for his tardiness.

Her gaze was focused on her hands, her arms resting softly on the white table cloth, a small furrow in her brow. Her expression immediately changes when she looks up and sees him approaching, her eyes lighting up and a smile forming on her face.

She rises from her seat, and extends her hand to him as he reaches the table.

“Melinda May.”

He shakes her hand and smiles apologetically as they both take their seats.

“Phil Coulson. I’m so sorry I’m late, something came up at home.”

She shakes her head and continues to smile as he speaks.

“It’s alright. Having three little ones at home must be hard work.”

He nods quickly, grateful for her understanding. He’s about to elaborate when he hears Clint and Tony’s voices in his head.

Stop being all dad like. It drives the ladies away.

You’re never going to get laid if she thinks that the only thing on your mind is babies.

So he wisely chooses to remain silent as he picks up the menu, scanning it absent-mindedly. Neither of them speak until after a waiter has come around to take their orders.

“So, what do you do when you’re not the leading sales manager at our company?”

She’s still smiling at him, one hand casually brushing back a stray curl that had managed to escape as she waits for his answer.

“Nothing really exciting,” he replies, shrugging.

His entire life revolved around either work or his children, and according to Clint, neither were good topics of conversation for a ‘blind’ date. The fact that this particular date happens to be so charming and beautiful isn’t helping his nerves either.

He can see she’s about to speak up again, but the waiter arrives with their entrées and they’re both concentrating on their food now.

Once their salads are finished and the plates removed, she’s looking at him again and the ever-present smile has vanished.

“Are you alright?”

She’s concerned for him, and he deduces that his worry for Skye must be showing up. He reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’m fine.”

He’s pulled it out now, scanning for new messages. There are none.

“Excuse me, I have to use the ladies room.”

She’s still looking at him with a slight concern as she rises and heads off to the rest rooms near the back of the restaurant.

His gaze returns to his phone screen, and he nearly drops the thing in shock as it begins vibrating in his hands.

It’s Trip.

“Trip what’s wrong? Is it Skye?” he asks worriedly as soon as he picks up.

“Sir, she’s running a fever, I’ve given her some medicine, I’m sure it’ll kick in and she’ll be fine soon.”

Trip’s voice is calm, and Phil trusts him. But he can also hear Skye’s cries in the background, and his heart breaks to know that she’s unwell.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone out. I’m heading back now.”

Before Trip has a chance to respond, Phil hangs up and shoves his phone back into his pocket before pulling out his wallet and keys, signalling a waiter over.

He asks for the cheque, and hands over a stack of bills, without really counting it out at all.

“When the lady in the purple comes back from the bathroom, can you please tell her I had an emergency at home and had to leave?”

And with that he’s off, racing out of the restaurant and to his car. By the time he’s buckled in and pulling out of his parking spot, a little drizzle of rain has begun. The traffic is awful as he drives home, and the downpour isn’t helping. It takes him nearly an hour before he pulls into his driveway, and he’s soaked just running from his car to the front door.

He strips his jacket off, dropping it onto the bannister with a loud clunk sound as he hurries down the hall to Skye’s bedroom.

The first thing he sees when he enters his room is his daughter sleeping in Trip’s arms. It’s not Skye, but Jemma, who is leaving a puddle of drool on Trip’s shirt. As he looks around, he can see Leo curled up asleep in another chair.

Trip rises carefully as to not wake the sleeping girl, and walks over to meet Phil at Skye’s crib.

“She was at ninety-nine degrees the last I checked, so the medicine definitely worked. Fell asleep not too long after I called you; she’s alright, she’s fine.”

Phil reaches down into the crib and places a hand onto her forehead to confirm what Trip had just relayed to him. She feels a little warm, but he supposes that was because he himself was still dripping wet thanks to the storm raging outside.

“Her big brother and sister wanted to keep her company and make sure she was okay,” Trip smiles fondly as he looks over to Leo and then back to Jemma in his arms as smiles happily at the relationship that his children shared.

They may not have been related by blood, but that didn’t matter. They were all still a family.

“I should probably change out of these clothes,” Phil says, chuckling softly.

“You should probably take a hot shower sir, you’re drenched. I’ll put them back in their beds and I’ll stay with Skye until you’re done.”

Phil claps Trip on the shoulder, trying to convey how grateful he was that the young man was around the help him.

* * *

 

It’s nearing midnight, and Phil sent Trip home a little while ago. The thunder is loud, and Phil checks on Leo, Jemma and Skye to make sure they’re okay before going about his own business. He picks up his drenched suit jacket from where it hung on the bannister and takes it to the laundry room, hanging it up to try, before removing his wallet and phone from the pockets.

He’s exhausted by time he climbs in to his own bed and pulls the covers over himself, holding his phone with both hands. Now that he’s certain that Skye’s fine and the kids are all asleep, he finally lets his mind drift back to the captivating Melinda May and how badly he’d screwed up on their date.

He has to apologize to her; if Skye hadn’t been sick and he hadn’t been worrying, he suspects that he would have enjoyed himself much more, and that the evening definitely wouldn’t have ended with running out without even saying goodbye.

He falls asleep to his thoughts and the sound of rain pelting against the roof.

* * *

 

Natasha’s been shooting him glares all morning, and he doesn’t have a chance to ask her about it until his lunch break, when she storms into his office and slams the door shut behind her.

“I told you to not screw this one up Phil.”

Oh, she’s definitely pissed if he can’t already tell from her stance.

“Skye was sick Nat.”

Her glare immediately softened and she dashed forward and took a seat opposite his desk, reaching for his arm.

“Is she alright?”

He nodded softly.

“Listen Nat, I’m really sorry about Melinda. I wanted to ask you for her number today, and I was planning to go up and see her now to apologize for her number,” he told his friend and co-worker.

Natasha frowned as she reached a hand into her pocket for her phone, pulling it out and scrolling through the messages.

“I texted her last night, to ask her how it went. And she sent this back.”

She hands the phone over to him and gauges his reaction as he reads the message.

_He was really sweet Nat, even though he had to leave early._  
_I had a lovely time; thank you for setting everything up._  
_I don’t think he’s interested though;_  
_I guess I’m still a pretty terrible date._  
_Sorry for ruining your schemes._

The frown on his face matches Natasha’s by the time he’s done reading, and he immediately rises from his office chair.

“I have to go apologize, make things right with her. Do you think she’ll give me a second chance?”

Natasha smirks, evidently extremely pleased that this set-up might have a happy ending and shakes her head at him in amusement.

“You two and your mixed signals will be the death of me one day. You know where she is, go get her tiger.”

With that, he hurries out from his office, down through his floor and towards the elevators at the end of hall, impatiently pressing the up button. By the time he’d reached the 25th floor, his palms were sweating and he was as nervous as he’d ever been.

As he turned the corner to where he knew her office was located, he saw that the door was open and the lights were off.

As he approached he heard a voice behind him call out.

“If you’re looking for Ms. May, she called in sick this morning.”

Huh.

* * *

 

He’d tried the next day, and the day after that, but each time, Melinda’s secretary said the same words as the first time.

“She’s been off sick the last three days. Is she alright?”

The roles were reversed this time as he raced into Natasha’s office the third day Melinda hadn’t shown up to work.

“What do you think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natasha did her signature eye roll before sighing.

“She caught a nasty cold after your date on Saturday. I saw her last night, she’s not sick anymore, just exhausted, I forced her to take the rest of the week off.”

Phil glared at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me instead of sending me off to look for her at her office every day when you knew she wasn’t coming in?”

Natasha grinned and Phil felt an involuntary shudder. He knew that look.

“Half of me wanted payback because you totally jacked up the date I arranged for you – but of course things changed after I realised why you’d left.”

He looks at her in exasperation, hands raised in the air as if to ask what the hell was wrong with her.

“The other half of me just wanted to screw with you.”

He slams his hands down on her desk in frustration, glaring at her.

“Give me her address; I need to go talk to her before it’s too late.”

Natasha has the biggest grin he’s ever seen on her face as she types out Melinda’s address onto his phone, along with her contact details.

“Can I come along and watch, I’ll tell Clint and Steve to bring the popcorn.”

The look he gives her effectively silences her; but it’s Natasha and she has a clinical need to annoy people.

“Fine. It’s not like you’ll make any romantic gestures, you’re out of touch. Almost as fossily as Steve.”

* * *

 

It’s Friday afternoon, and Melinda’s taking the chance to tidy up her apartment whilst on this forced break from work. She’d voluntarily taken Monday and Tuesday off after feeling too sick to even leave her room, but she’d pretty much recovered by Tuesday night.

But Natasha had called Maria, who as their ‘superior’ had commanded that she not turn up to work ‘or else’.

Truth be told, she was glad for the break.

She hadn’t taken time off in quite a while, and after the weekend she’d had, she definitely needed it.

She mentally reprimands herself has her thoughts continue to drift back to Phil, and how sweet he’d been despite his apparent lack of interest. Natasha had told her he was distracted because his daughter was sick that evening, and she completely understood.

Hope had flared up after she had heard; the possibility that Phil returned her feelings, whatever they may be, but he’d still made no attempt to contact her so that was that.

She’s just about done reorganizing her pantry when the sound of her doorbell ringing pulls her out of her thoughts.

Frowning, she places the sugar pot back onto the counter and exits the kitchen, heading down the hallway to her front door. Who would be calling on her at this time of day?

She takes a look through the peep hole, but sees nobody, and is halfway back to the kitchen when the doorbell rings again.

Not bothering to check this time, she unlocks the door, pulling it open but finding the space in front of her empty.

She casts her gaze down as she hears a giggle, and finds a toddler in a Captain American onesie sitting on her doormat. Her eyes widen as the little girl reaches for her, shouting “Up, up,” and she bends down picks the child up, smiling, despite the strange situation.

She steps out into the hall, looking right and left for any sign of the person who had left the girl outside her apartment.

Finding none, Melinda looks back down at the little girl in her arms, who is gripping the collar of her shirt, demanding her attention. She smiles at the girl, who is now frowning back at her, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout as if trying to remember something.

“I’m sowwy. I’m sowwy for wuining you date with daddy.”

Melinda allows herself a small gasp as she realises the meaning of the little girl’s words.

“And I’m sorry too.”

She looks up at the sound his voice; Phil’s standing in her open doorway, in a suit not unlike the one he wore around the office or on their ‘ruined’ date. He’s got a bouquet of flowers in his arms, and the look he’s giving her is making her blush like a teenage girl.

She steps back, allowing him room to enter her apartment. He sets the flowers down on her coffee table, and Melinda places his daughter back into his open arms.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

Melinda watches with fondness as Phil pressed a kiss to his daughter’s cheek before turning back towards the door and handing her off to a young African-American male in the hallway, who mock salutes at them before he turns on his heel and heads down the hall, loud peals of laughter coming from the child in his arms.

Melinda’s attention returns to Phil as he shuts the door and walks over to retrieve his bouquet from the table, holding the flowers out to her.

“If you gave me a second chance, I’d show up on your doorstep with a bunch of flowers and a cheesy apology.”

She smiles and takes the bouquet from him, heading over to the vase full of fake flowers by her television, pulling them out haphazardly, and placing the fresh ones he’d brought inside carefully.

“Thank you Phil, they’re beautiful.”

She’s turned to thank him, and he’s only inches away from her now.

“If you gave me a second chance, I’d tell you how beautiful you were, over and over again, because it can’t be said enough and I regret not telling you the first time.”

He’s taken her hands in his, and she’s probably grinning like an idiot, but she can’t help herself.

“If you gave me a second chance, I’d take you dancing, just so I’d have an excuse to hold you the entire night.”

She’s weak in his arms which have made their way around her waist, her palms resting flat against his chest.

“If you gave me a second chance, I’d walk you to your door at the end of the night. And I’d lean in and ask for her permission like this.”

One of his hands is cupping her cheek now, his blue eyes piercing hers, and she can feel his heated breath on her face. He hasn’t moved any further, still waiting for her consent, and she gives it to him the only way appropriate in this situation.

Brushing her hands up from where they lay on his chest to his shoulders, and then hooking her arms around his neck, she leans up as she pulls him down and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

When she pulls away she doesn’t get very far because his arms are like iron around her, keeping her pressed against him, and he’s looking at her like she’s the sun.

“So, I’m going to take that as a yes?” he says jokingly, loosening his grip on her and allowing her to tug him over to the couch where they both sat down.

Melinda just laughs as Phil takes her hand and laces their fingers together.

“And to think I almost believed Natasha all those times she told me you were as romantic as a rock.”

“I don’t just show this side of me to anyone you know,” he says, chuckling softly.

Melinda smiles, despite herself, and leans her head onto Phil’s shoulder, listening to him talk.

“We should probably send her a gift for setting us up. But you know, maybe let’s just not tell her about us just yet. Pretend you wouldn’t give me another chance, you know, to mess with her head.”

* * *

 

They end up sending Natasha a gift eventually, but not for several years.

  
Nothing lavish, just a rather large selection of alcoholic beverages from the first stop on their honeymoon and they’re not the least bit surprised when they return home after two weeks to find the bottles empty and the Russian barely drunk at all.


End file.
